As I mentioned in a homemade--because no one had time shop this week--card to my husband this morning, this certainly wasn’t the Valentine’s Day of our dreams. There's certainly been nothing romantic about these past couple of weeks. Nothing. Not one little bit.
A heavy diagnosis. A hard surgery. A lot of fears and unknowns and what ifs. A whole lot of tears. It doesn’t feel like flowers and chocolates will make much of a difference on this February 14th, 2022. Not this year.
This year, my heart feels, well, broken.
Broken into a million little pieces … kind of like our world when just days ago we were handed the most unloving message we could have imagined. Stage 4 cancer.
I want love to grow. Not cancer.
Please, dear Lord, not cancer.
But this is where we have found ourselves halfway thorough February. All broken up. In pieces. Not sure how we will ever put ourselves back together again. Not sure what it will all look like going forward. Not even sure there’s a perfect mending of this earthly heart to be found.
But, even in this heartsick state, God somehow, in some way, continues to show me His extravagant love. And at the end of this day--this heart-themed holiday--I have a couple of things which mean so much more than anything Hallmark could ever print on a pretty greeting card:
- Never have I felt more loved. By my husband, my children, my family, my friends and my extended community. Never have I felt such an authentic, overwhelming outpouring. We are only a week or so into this journey, and already, I’ve experienced the hands and feet and Words of Jesus by His people in an incredible way. Ya’ll just keep showing up. You keep sending and saying and bringing and organizing and helping in ways which look only like LOVE. Real love. Not some sugary fake version of love. Not some nice sentiments here today and gone tomorrow, but real, honest to goodness, gritty love. Love which has skin. Love which isn’t afraid of the pain or sadness or darkness or illness. Love which can come and quietly sit with me. Love which can leave healthy groceries on our doorstep or ship fuzzy socks and pajamas in the mail. Love which drives me to places I need to go. Love which reminds me to take my medicine. Love which cleans my shower and toilet. Love which looks at my sliced up belly and is quick to remind me of my beauty. Love which will speak truth and gently turn my head toward the One who loves best. Love, which this week, might even look like taking my 165 pound stinky dog to the groomers. (Anyone?) =) Yes, I feel loved.
- Never have I felt more grateful for God’s love. “But God showed His great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners.” Romans 5:8. Think about that, friends. God sent His Son from perfect Heaven to this messy, messed up world and offered Him as a sacrifice for messy, messed up us - for our sin. He didn’t have to and we certainly didn’t deserve it. And yet this is how much God loves us. “God loved the world SO MUCH that He gave His only Son for us, that we might be saved.” John 3:16. Is there anything more loving than sacrificing something so loved? It makes my head spin. It makes my heart pound. It makes my tears fall. I am loved. You are loved. No matter what! No matter what our circumstances look like. No matter how hard our season. No matter how painful our suffering. No matter how awful our sin. We are loved by the God of the universe. Loved in a way which is not even fathomable to us as humans who must use holidays to express our hearts. The love of Jesus is beyond any beauty this earth can bring us. Jeremiah 31:3 reminds us of how God loves, “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.”
Friends, I know today some of you feel heartbroken too. For many reasons. Maybe it’s not a cancer diagnosis, but it is some type of disease. Some type of specific suffering gnawing away at you. At your heart. At your spirit. At your very soul. Something which is telling you you aren’t very lovely or, even, loved. Please let me gently remind you, that is not Jesus speaking to you. Not at all. No, He wants you to know He loves you so much He took on all the suffering of this world for you. For You! His love ran red for us on a cross on a hill on a dark, dark, darkest of days. For us. For every single hurting and heartsick thing in us. He loves us.
I know cancer doesn’t feel one bit like love. And I won’t be the person who tells you that it is. I hate it. I hate everything about it. Hear me again: I want LOVE to grow, not cancer! But, dear ones, I do know that God is love and even though I may not understand everything that happens this side of heaven, I know when I listen closely to His voice, He is whispering words of love over me. Even now. Even in this. Especially in this.
He is singing over me with rejoicing. He is quieting me with His calm. He is touching me with tenderness. He is leading me beside still waters. He is covering me with His feathers. He is drawing me closer to Him and to His heart.
And He is, most certainly, fighting for me every step of the way.
"He heals the brokenhearted
and binds up their wounds." ~ Psalm 147:3
"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit."
~ Psalm 34:18
Love you!
ReplyDeleteHi Jody: I met you a few years back at Mark Phillip’s holiday party. I worked with your husband as an HR Capital Partner. I just want you to know that I am praying for you, Rick and your kids, especially. I have enjoyed reading your blog from time to time. Your strength and love for others is very inspirational. I am so very sorry you need to go through all of this. Although I don’t belong to a particular religion, I truly appreciate your bible references - perhaps especially since I lost my mom back in November. You have provided me comfort without realizing this. Thanks and God bless you and protect you.
ReplyDeleteElizabeth Bohaty
Dear Elizabeth - Thank you for reaching out. It means so much to me. We love that people from all walks and seasons of life are coming alongside us. I want to extend my deepest sympathy for the great loss of your mom. I can imagine the sharpness of that particular loss. We know it is a part of life, but we certainly can't always understand it--the timing, the deep hurt of our heart. None of it feels as it should. We don't know where to turn for healing, but I want to remind you, Jesus longs to meet us wherever we are with His most tender love. When we seek Him, we will find Him. He is gentle and He is good. Much love to you.
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